Hearsay

JR.'s, Universal Gear, Velvetnation

Seems like every other gay Washingtonian bar-hopper was hoppin’ to the $2 Skyy cocktails at JR.’s last Sunday, closing out a great-weather weekend by getting hammered. Hearsay’s kind of crowd! Hearsay had heard word that it was Tim "Two Lips" Hollandmoritz‘s last drink-a-thon in D.C. The Timboy was set to move to Ft. Lauderdale on Tuesday, joining his friend and former D.C. scenester Matt "Lassie!" Collier in sunny Laudertown, home of strip malls and big halls. Hearsay met one hunky fella who just moved to town Friday from New Hampshire, that lovely acorn-sized state that beats up on Rhode Island (but not Maine, never Maine). It was a friendly bunch and it was Hearsay’s second trip to JR.’s that weekend, as Hearsay had to stop by the Feel Good Friday Happy Hour before spending the latter part of its evening basking in a retro-rush at The Green Lantern‘s pulsing hot new Friday night party Echo. Echo. Echo. Echo. Rotating DJs Carl "See Me" Pitts and Rob "Feel Me" Richardson take the platters to the past, while the Exalted ‘n’ Sacrosanct Bill "Touch Me" Keart and Alan "Heal Me" Chasan create video magic downstairs. Talk about hot tunesÂ…

Impulse purchases are the butter of the retail industry. Because Hearsay was born to drink and bred to shop, it’s made a few too many impulse buys at Universal Gear after a binge (followed by a purge) on 17th Street. Who amongst you cannot say the same? Retail after-hours is the store’s stock in trade. Strange, then, that it took more than a decade for the queer Gear dears to bring the bar to the shop. But as soon as Hearsay heard about the store’s 25% Off Underwear Sale Launch Party last Thursday, Hearsay came a scootin’ to David "Clothes Horse or Trick Pony?" Franco‘s house of couches and pouches of the crotchety kind. But what to wear, what to wear? How about Hearsay’s all-poly silver club pants found in the closet one morning after a particularly boozy happy hour adventure on the strip. Hearsay’s not sure why it bought these aluminum-foil-inspired pants in the first place, but at least now they’ll get some wear and, hopefully, tear. So while Hearsay sashayed and spun itself in circles into the store — like a disco ball, baby, right round, round, round — boys in much better shape moved around in nothing but the latest in gay underwear fashion, which is often like wearing nothing at all. Hearsay spotted through the front window the alcohol lemonade stand in the back. So Hearsay made its move, setting a record for the fastest front-door-to-dressing-room time ever at the store, an impressive nine inches — er, seconds. Sorry, Hearsay was thinking of Rob "Kickin’ Kowboy" Keffer, Metro Weekly‘s 2002 Nightlife Coverboy of the Year, who was one of the willing underwear packers that evening. Hearsay ran into Keffer at the lemonade stand, where white wine and Skyy Blue were at the ready, along with a few veggie sticks and dip. Hearsay surrounded itself with the in-crowd, which, as anyone in knows includes Brian "Seven of 9" Renfro, Alan "Deep Space 9" Callander and Keith "9 Inch Nails" Simonsen, Ricardo "Number 9 Dream" Zapata. Hearsay wandered aimlessly around the space like a ping-pong ball on crystal, sizing up the latest and greatest in clubwear. Hearsay’s favorite: the "E-Z Pass" Pistol Pete Zip-Up Jeans, with its wraparound zipper that clearly isn’t designed for underwear under there. "I need to see the inside of your underwear to know whether they’re worth buying," Hearsay said to model Nate "Universal Seersucker" Miller. Miller gave Hearsay and a handful of other gawkers a sneak preview of what he was packin’ in his Calvin Klein tightie whities. But he’d only indulge gawkers a sneak preview, so Hearsay decided to commence a Battle for the Bulge. First weapon of choice: a cocktail. Hearsay aimed a cocktail toss at Miller’s crotch, to shine a light in his bushel, as it were. Alas, with a drunken aim, Hearsay missed, hitting a $139 pair of Diesel jeans instead. At that price, a pair of jeans should earn you two separate pieces of cloth. At least Hearsay thought so, and said so, to the overeager sales clerk who descended upon the soggy scene. The long and short of it is, Hearsay got shafted in a botched attempt to see Miller’s shaftÂ…

After skimpy underwear on Thursday, Hearsay was hoping to see skimpy loincloths at Velvet Nation last Saturday in honor of the venue’s Fifth Anniversary and its classical Roman theme. It was too classical by half: the ashen-painted live statues — who, it must be said, did an amazing job of standing still for hours without end — were wearing togas, keeping everything under wraps. Because they were up on stage, they also replaced the usual sexy low-rise jeans gyrations of hot-bod stage dancer James "If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don’t Wanna Be" Wright, among others. Fortunately, the crowd was over-wrapped, with both parking lots full and the space packed cheek by jowl and cheek to cheek to jowl to vowel with scantily clad boys. Victor "Richter Scale" Calderone attracted his usual devotees, including Gregg "Facial Hair" Roby and Mark "Strawberry Jam Session" Walsh. There was the delicious surprise of seeing Rob "Corn on the Cob" Harris wandering around and heating up the place. He was no doubt sizing up the place, too, preparing for a rare Velvet venture this Saturday, when he’ll spin with fellow local hirsute muscular DJ Blaine "Cajun Bacon" Soileau, in an evening dubbed Midnight Mass. Please, bring your own religious baggageÂ…

Hearsay

New gay lounge coming to DC, and lots more

Recently Hearsay took a trip to Lovely Lena’s Empire Video on P Street in search of a little Hollywood, a lot of Ali’s wood and a nod of Bobby’s wood. And in short order, Tommy would, Jimmy could, Stacey should and Mikey did. But as they were breaking and entering Hearsay found Lena Lett-ing herself go. She’s been surrounded on all sides by construction crews for years now, and finally she just threw up the White Gucci Bag and surrendered. Sort of. Someone’s getting on top of the ol’ not-a-lady lass. But who? And more importantly, why? Because, Ed “Basketball Jones” Bailey says Washington is in need of "a very cool, very simple lounge, like Helix or Rouge for a gay audience." That’s why. He’s talking about his coming chaise lounge at chez Lena. Bailey, along with business partner Jon "The Tracks of My Tears" Guggenmos, will open just such a lounge by May 1. Of course, instead of being inside of a trendy boutique hotel, it’s inside of — or rather, above — a video rental shop that caters to a discriminating adult market. And ye hear this: This is fabu news for our queer little town. Blended drinks — and smoothies! — are scheduled to be on the menu at Bailey’s seven-nights-a-week lounge. Along with your regular Tom Collins and Pink Lady and Mary Pickford and Harvey Wallbanger and a hundred or so of your friends and neighbors, crowding into the intimate but "high-end designed" space. Bailey describes it best by what it will not be. "It will not feature DJs. It will not have a dance floor. It will not be an after-hours club.” And then Ed proffered a list of No’s that almost — almost — made him sound like a politician. “No cover, no dress code, no attitude, no bingo, no karaoke, no Family Feud, no theme nights, no crazy drunk people, no frisky, flirty gay boys." Okay, Ed, thanks, Hearsay gets the point.

As for the name of this new establishment, Bailey says, “We had been trying to come up with a name that incorporated l-o for Logan Circle.” But Welo (for West of Logan) just didn’t sound right. So Ed dumped the W for an H and the e for an a and the result was: Halo, which, by the way, should not be confused with the video game in which you are an intergalactic marine on a bust-up-some-serious-alien-ass mission. Instead, Bailey is thinking of a different kind of Halo. “It’s a place for good boys." What about bad boys? Bailey, bless him, didn’t have an answer. What a wonderful life he must lead, Hearsay thought. Maybe bad boys could go there, too, Hearsay wondered. And these bad boys would have to earn their halos. And maybe a pair of wings, to boot. Or boots with little wings! Like The Flash! Forget Flash! How about Wonder Woman’s ensemble. That always looked good on the very baddest of boysÂ…

Last weekend many nightlife haunts around town were a bit spartan. Why? The weather was a bit chilly for the first day of Spring last Saturday, to be exact. But that’s never kept the hot-blooded away before. The reason, according to anonymous but well-positioned sources, was New York’s leather and leather-lite circuit event, the Black Party. Who knew it was such a draw for Washingtonians? Guess Hearsay’ll just have to check it out next year and report back. Anyway, the Big Apple can keep its dirty Black Party, Hearsay will take Washington’s perpetual cherry. It’s only a month away before Cherry 9, yet already the buzz is beginning. And this Sunday, March 28, at Dream, join the Cherry organizers for a Tea Dance and Final Host Party where you can get info on the big event and purchase your host past. For more information, visit www.cherryfund.org or find Aron “Cherry Flavored” Wilson, kneel before him, and ask of him the proper path to Cherry salavationÂ…

Before the cherries get pricked, the pricks got tipped last weekend. As in tipsy. Ah, the luck o’ the Irish! And the matzoballs o’ the Jews! Come away with us laddies, for the first ever St. Patrick Goldberg Day. Ne’er heard o’ Goldilocks? Well, by day, his name is Ed "Gefilte Guinness" Carp. Carp raised a toast to "Ireland’s greatest and most frugal saint," who Carp went on to explain was half-Irish (that would be ma) and half-Jewish (that would be da), making him either the luckiest unlucky man or the unluckiest lucky man ever to grace God’s big green earth. Carp celebrated Saint Goldberg last Saturday at his home, Temple Beth El Beer, along with his boyfriend Mike "Pot o’ Gold" Espina and dozens and dozens and dozens of friends, who feasted on with a family secret smear of potatoes, horseradish and corned beef on green bagels and greeted each other by donning their yarmulkes, firmly grabbing ahold of their lucky charms, and shouting, until their lungs bled, "O’Shalom, O’Shalom, let’s go find ourselves a lepre-Cohen!”Â…

And exactly one week prior, Andrew "Salty Balls" Peak opened the door on his surprise 30th Birthday gathering with a gay porn video in hand, a loaner to his friends and party hosts, Martin "Minimalist" Moeller and Steve "Maximilli" Dickens. Clearly, this was a surprise all around. His boyfriend John "Sweet Tea" McKinnon invited all of Peak’s friends. The porn was a surprise surprise guest, but not much of a surprise to those who know Peak, those who know Peak inform Hearsay. The porn wasn’t actually played at the party, Hearsay was also informed. Good thing, too, since Peak’s momma and sisters were on hand at the blessed eventÂ…

Finally, it wouldn’t be a Hearsay of late without a mention of Capital Pride’s Robert "Hey Ya" York. This week’s adventure in the fabulous life of Mr. York centers on the hullabaloo over the number of blonde entertainers who will be in town over Pride’s big weekend, June 12-13, though none of them scheduled specifically for Pride festivities — at least not yet. None of the mostly unnatural blondes are bigger, however, than Madonna, whose tour, it was announced Monday, will stop at the MCI Center on June 13, the very day, as it happens, of this year’s Capital Pride Festival. Will York be able to wrangle any material moment from Carmela Kabbalah? Stay tuned for a future edition of As The York Turns…

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Hearsay

Where in the world is Hildi Santo-Tomas?… A Pointer (and a cube) for VelvetNation… Mary and Titan turn three…

Who is Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas? Hearsay decided to ask that of every homosexual it met last weekend (and, as always, it met a lot). And what a coincidence! One Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas was spotted around town, showing that Hearsay is more than just a gossipmonger. Hearsay’s also a prophet. (Stand back for the second coming.) Indeed, Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas was seen at Cobalt’s 30 Degrees Lounge Friday with a gaggle of bald, bodyguard-sized gay men. Maybe they really were bodyguards, you say. Surely the lovely Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas needs protection. No, said celebrity watcher Kevin "I See Everything" Gray, who noted the way the supposed bodyguards were holding their Cosmos and laughing. Gaily. Many other gay boys in the bar were swooning and pointing at Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas, who was fetchingly dressed to the nines, as if she were a TV matinee icon. Really, though, Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas — can you tell Hearsay likes reciting her name? It sounds so regal, so special, so made up. In that spirit, Hearsay will make up a similar name for the next gay man it meets. It won’t take long, keep reading. So, Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas is in reality just a cable TV reality show star, specifically a designer for TLC’s popular home makeover show Trading Spaces. Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas is notorious for her adventures in stapling straw on the wall of a lesbian couple-with-young-kid’s living room. It’s as brilliant and classy and kid-friendly as it sounds. But what brings Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas to these regions? Was she scheming about remodeling 30 Degrees? Actually, it’d be safer for all if she let her fellow Trading Spaces decorator Vern "Do-Da" Yip handle 30 Degrees, since his queer eye is more fashion-sensible.Â Anyway, Hearsay never learned the reason why the Atlanta-based Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas in town, because her gaggle of swishy, bodyguard-sized gay men were intimidating, and Hearsay’s cultivated charm of seduction wasn’t having any effect with this brute force. Next time, Hearsay will slip some Viagra into their drinks and shout "Free for all!" hoping that they part the wall long enough for Hearsay to get close to Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas. Oh, Miss Hildi Santo-Tomas, how Hearsay so wants to feel your staple gun pressed hard against its much-in-need-of stapling buttocksÂ…

And speaking of celebrity divas, Bonnie "He’s So Shyamalan" Pointer took to the stage at Velvet Nation last Saturday and blew through four tunes — one for each Pointer Sister. Okay, so it wasn’t the entire Pointer Sister-hood as Velvet’s ads and website info initially promised, but it was good enough. Bon-Bon got the I Love the ’80s crowd so excited boys were jumping on stage in a clamor to touch Bon-Bon’s bon-bon. Here’s the scoop: Bon-Bon was originally to have been joined by her sister (and roommate) June, but apparently things have reached a boiling point in the Pointer family, so it just didn’t work out. And Bon-Bon’s performance wasn’t even the highlight of the night. The thirty-piece dance troupe X-Faction provided that satisfaction. The locals in X-Faction — earlier known as Urban Moves, who performed backup for Aubrey, before she abandoned us for the big wormy apple — brought the house down with their Prince medley, dancing like it’s 1999. "It was the first great night of the year," Velvet’s Ed "Neutron Dance" Bailey told Hearsay. Poor Ed, ever the athletic one, he broke his right foot playing basketball the week before, so it was all done up in a cast, and he was hobbling around on crutches. Actually, he wasn’t moving around much, just enough to reach the controls on Nation’s super-sized DJ console and to peer out on the dance floor, to look at the giant, 6-foot Rubik’s Cube created specially for the night. It hung from the ceiling, replacing the giant disco ball in the middle of the space, answering the age-old question, how do you square a circle? Still unanswered: how do you circle a square?Â…

Patrick "Marry Me, Many-to-Watch" Guerriero is not just another celebrity diva of the week, though surely he’d be allowed a diva moment or two, seeing as how he is the director of the Log Cabin Republications, that quaint, important group of monied and mannered homosexuals trying to live and let live among people who’d rather see them vanquished to a remote part of the Antarctic for a very long night of poker. Either that or become Democrats. Guerriero was spotted last Thursday night at JR.’s, the night of Dining Out for Life. JR.’s was its usual boisterous adventure, a time of seeing stars and all you can drink, not mutually exclusive occurrences. Lena "Great Merciful Goddess" Lett was up on the edge of the bar’s upper level, the best vantage point to see the bartenders as they lost layers of clothing as people donated to a pot ‘o money for Dining Out for Life’s tremendous beneficiary Food & Friends (to see the shirtless bartenders in all their chesty glory, browse the Dining Out for Life Pages at www.metroweekly.com/sceneÂ — you can’t miss the hunky foursome). Capital Pride’s Robert "With Three You get Eggroll" York was present and accounted for, with lots of layers of clothing, none removed. York was threatening to never come out again. Seems he’s getting pestered endlessly about Pride happenings. And see, he doesn’t have time to be pestered endlessly. Not anymore, anyway, since he’s also just assumed AIDS Walk directorship duties. As if he didn’t have his hands — and heart — full of enough pride alreadyÂ…

And finally, Hearsay’s last celebrity diva of the week is none other than Mary — of Hamburger Mary’s — and her brother Titan, Lord of the Prance. Mary turned three last Tuesday night, March 16th, and celebrated by offering patrons a generous 30% off their bill. (Hearsay, for its part, had ten burgers (sans buns, Atkins, you know) and five gallons of beer, which produced a mighty hefty last-call burp.) Hearsay congratulates Glenn "Skip to the Loo" Mlaker and his immensely intensely friendly staff on hitting the three-year mark. It’s all uphill from here, darlingÂ…

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Hearsay

Drag Kings, Chaos, and the Democratic Caucus

Sometimes a drag king kiss is more than a kissÂ… National Geographic takes its cameras to ChaosÂ… Return of the Democratic CaucusÂ…

So two drag queens are performing at Chaos. The two — let’s call them Gigi "Puttin’ on the" Couture and Xavier "Shop at" Bloomingdale — are dirty dancing together at the end of their number, lip-synching to the music of Britney and Madonna. And then, at the song’s finish, they lipstick-lock. Doesn’t sound like much of a joke, does it now? Well, it never happened. After all, who wants to see two girly girls all pancake made-up kissing — two girly girls that are really guys? But two girls dressed as manly men going through the same motions? Now, that’s entertainment. And it happened last Wednesday night at Chaos’ four year anniversary celebration of its monthly Drag King Show. Actually, the girlz-to-men seduction was a love triangle acted out, improbably, to the tune of "Come On Eileen." Boise "I Da Ho" Studley kissed Mr. Somebody after pushing aside the charms of Ms. Could Be Anybody, first seen in her Eileen pretty red dress and later in a skimpy ooh-la-la bikini. Right here, it’s important to note that Hearsay means no offense to Mr. Somebody and Ms. Could Be Anybody. Hearsay partakes in a steady stream of alcohol (both of the drinking and rubbing variety) while on the job and often forgets names. And it’s Mr. Nobody And Ms. Everybody’s loss, since the inspired “Eileen” number was the crowning achievement of a great night. Co-host Maestro put it another way following the performance: "We got some mad creative people here tonight!" That’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, Hearsay likes it.

The capacity crowd was more boisterous than Hearsay ever remembers seeing at Chaos’ drag queen pageants, which are more formal, elegant affairs. Of course, the crowd was fired up by the exciting, improbable antics dreamed up by the Victor-Victoria drag kings, fearlessly led by event founder and king of all drag kings across the kingdom of Drag Kingdonia, Ken "Roulette Balls" Las Vegas. Ken and Maestro both performed the Virgin Sacrifice that opens each monthly show. This time they got lewd with a lass named Angela, who’d never been to a drag king show before. One official drag king website — www.dckings.comÂ — instructs future Virgins: "Enjoy this opportunity if you get it! Not many get the chance to flirt so closely with a king." But if you do get the opportunity, perchance, look to see what his facial hair is made of: Natural hair clippings? Horse hide? Cork? Yes, cork. Apparently, if you "burn the end of a cork lightly," wait for it to cool off and then lightly dab it on your face, you have instant-stubble. The problem comes when you try to later shave it off. The blades tend to rip through soft female flesh.

Okay, now here’s the kicker. On site at the event was an actual National Geographic Television crew, who apparently took a wrong left turn while searching for the Great Blowhole at the Top o’ the World and wound up, somehow, filming the proceedings at Chaos. The ever-so-clever NatGeoGraph producer quickly called the head of the organization on her NatGeoGraph Go-Anywhere Walkie Talkie with a hot flash. "SORRY TO BOTHER YOU BOSS," she shouted into the face-sized device, "BUT I THINK WE SHOULD DITCH THE BLOWHOLE FEATURE AND INSTEAD DO SOMETHING ON THIS FLOCK OF LESBIANS WHO THINK THEY’RE GAY MEN! BUT WITHOUT THE MESS! THOUGH I DO THINK LOTS OF WIGGLING FINGERS ARE STILL INVOLVED! I’LL LET YOU KNOW LATER AFTER I’VE EXPERIENCED IT FOR MYSELF!" For his part, the NatGeoGraph chief shouted back, "LESBIANS! I LOVE LESBIANS! MAKE THEM KISS EACH OTHER! AND THEN MAKE THEM TELL YOU WHERE THAT DAMN ISLE OF LESBOS IS! I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO SEND A CREW THERE TO SHOOT ITS FABLED HERMIT CRAB POPULATION!" Needless to say, the crew got a shot of the kiss, called it a wrap, and went off in search of crabsÂ…

Last Saturday, Hearsay got all political-minded, stopping by the Great Drab Gymnasium at UDC to see what really happens at the Democratic State Committee Delegate Selection Caucus. Well, there are a lot of long lines, bleating political would-bes and are-nows, and plenty of food for the hungry voters. As you know, Hearsay’s not much of a political beast, but it was happy to offer Mayor Anthony "Is My Bowtie Crooked?" Williams a nice, cool, refreshing glass of home-poured tap water. "Drink it, Mr. Mayor," Hearsay said, a sinister note creeping into its voice. "Take a sip. Just one little sip." The Mayor, for his part, declined, muttering something about getting his water nutrients exclusively from a faraway place called Poland Springs. Hearsay bumped lightly into Phil "Do the Bustle" Pannell, who offered Hearsay some political wisdom: "Always vote Democratic. Always." Hearsay traded quips with John "Luxurious Locks" Ralls over at the Jack Evans Elect-emporium, where it was also introduced to the City Paper‘s politi-columnist Loose Lips. It was kind of like a meeting of polar opposite legends — substance and anti-substance, truth and blatantly fabricated crap. Hearsay eventually made it over to the Andy "Don’t Touch the Hair!" Litsky camp where it regaled its old friend with tales of political madness from the days of Eisenhower. Turns out that, ultimately, Litsky was elected a delegate for presidential hopeful Kerry, along with another gay politi-celeb, Kurt "Vonnegut" Vondran and a couple of chicks whose names escape Hearsay at the moment. Damn that grain alcoholÂ…

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Hearsay

Secrets, Oscar parties, more

Not so secretly taking the stage at Secrets Lord, who knew there were eleven ringsÂ… Lapses at the LanternÂ…

This isn’t a family magazine in the Focus on the Family kind of way. Thank Mel. Oops, wrong deity. Thank dick. See, Hearsay can say dick here and not risk the wrath of the FCC’s Michael "Semi-Colon" Powell. He doesn’t read our Filth anyway. Thank dick again. Even better, Hearsay can report on dicks about town, and get passionate about dicks about town, and get paid to report on dicks about town. Can you think of a better job to have in this town? Well, maybe the locker room staff at Results. Or the manager of the Crew Club. So, in reality, there are many jobs as visually stimulating as this one. A job is what you make of it anyway, right? At least that’s what David "I Can’t Imagine My Empire without Lena" Lett always says. And, well, could anyone but Donnell "Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitgzerald’s Love Child" Robinson make more of his job emceeing the monthly amateur night at Secrets? "Oh, the shots are kickin’ in." "Jack Daniels is taking control." "I’m getting hungry, anybody else feel like some hot cakes?" Donnell bantered in between contestants last Thursday at what the club bills as "The Biggest Dancer Contest in Town!" It’s hard to argue that — most of theÂ evening’s eleven contestants were definitely big boys, in more ways than one. "Come find your secret," Donnell, whose Ella wigs and figs were packed away for the night, replaced by a homeboy ball cap, beckoned to the impressively cute crowd, trying to get them to size up the merchandise. But Marius was the only contestant who truly had a secret, since he never revealed his family jewels. (And that’s the kind of Focus on the Family Hearsay demands.) His friend and fellow contestant Alex, on the other hand, had no discernible secret, except well, just who is he? What is his relationship to Marius? Hearsay was too intimidated to ask: He was the biggest dancer of the night, with his bodybuilder mass, tree-trunk thighs, maximum gluts and his max. cap. 69 bus. Warning: This bus makes sudden stops. But lose the shoes, some lusty crowd member shouted. Alex, you see, was wearing tan TimberlandÂ moccasins. And they simply do not look cool, even on a smolderingly striking man like himself. Before his final five minutes of glory — all his glory — he took them off. Despite his physical prowess, skin the color of mocha and — oh hell, Hearsay’s just gonna say it, since Hearsay can — big honkin’ dick, Alex came in a distant second to the dirty-blond, thin Ben. His hypnotic smile had both the girls and the guys in the audience involuntarily screaming. Even better, he left no doubt on which team he and his hairy thighs squat for. Oh, what a night, as Frankie Valli might screech. There was hardly a dud among the stud-and-pud contestants — which included, Hearsay must report, a certain Cobalt bartender and former Coverboy Confidential who apparently loves being naked, not that anyone would ever complain. There were a couple amateurs obviously not so comfortable bare in the glare and stare, but first contestant John of the curved, rock-hard and happy-to-see-ya demeanor was certainly not one of them. Chance seemed perfectly at home on stage, too, with his dirty white-tube socks and tattoo after tattoo after tattoo. But earlier, when he was amongst the crowd, he wasn’t so comfortable. "We don’t do that in Virginia," he said, positively perplexed by and Pollyanna-ish about the TV screens displaying a "documentary" glory of glory holes. "Faces!" Chance proclaimed. "I need to see their faces!" It’s nice to know things like eyes, ears, mouth and throat (deep, deep throat) still matter to some of usÂ…

You should have seen the hoops Kevin "Black Bean, Red Pepper And I’m Not" Gray must have jumped through in preparing food for his small gathering of friends on Oscar night last Sunday. His was just one of what must have been hundreds of Oscar-viewingÂ parties around town. If you didn’t watch it in the company of others ingesting alcohol, you surely must have fallen asleep by the time Billy "Diamonds and Spurs" Crystal‘s opening monologue never-ended. Or at least by the time Tim "Bay City Rollerball" Hollandmoritz dished up his Midwestern Meatballs at Gray’s party, while Gray’s boyfriend Lou "In the Stew" Persic served as bartender for the evening, making his own variant of a Flirtini. And of course he made Flirtinis. He is, after all, a regular bartender at the Green LanternÂ…

And speaking of the Green Lantern, Hearsay heard a rumor that, a month into the three-month smoke-out among seven smokers of the Lantern’s staff, not all are succeeding. Alas, the rumor turned out to be more than a rumor. It turned out to be true. Only three remain "completely clean" of cigarettes: Jason "Hold Me" Horswill, James "Thrill Me" Steele and Greg "Kiss Me" Zehnacker, the owner. Is he staying sane? "Yeah, but you probably oughtta ask the staff about that," Zehnacker told Hearsay. Amazingly, he and Steele are still at it cold turkey, while Horswill is brandishing a patch. Two others are mostly smoke-free but have had a couple slip-ups, while the remaining two are claiming to be "temporarily" back to smoking. That includes Jason "Spring Fever" Watson, who’s admittedly had it harder than most, since he’s allergic to the patch. But Zehnacker is still hopeful all seven will have kicked the habit by the May 1st deadline. If not, he quickly added, he hopes that all seven will be back to puffing away, so they can "rent a U-Haul and drive to North Carolina to stock up on cigarettes," with the pot of $800 to which they’re all contributing. Uh-oh, sounds like Zehnacker’s getting nostalgic for the habit. Hearsay hopes the boys can nip that nostalgia in the butts. Maybe somebody can give them a hand?Â…

Got a Hearsay-worthy tip? A piece of gossip you must get off your chest? Write Hearsay at hearsay@metroweekly.com or visit it in the Nightlife section at www.metroweekly.com and fill out its handy-dandy easy-as-pie web form.

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